Yes. I’m in absolute awe at the possibilities that life has presented me. I mean, I’ve had it pretty good for a long time, but I’ve really found myself appreciating that fact for the past year and a half or so. I’m so completely blissed out for such long periods of time that sometimes I begin to worry that I’m manic. But no, no mania here, I’ve just been blessed with a wonderful life.

So, this fact that life is wonderful, I’ve found, can’t be taken as a small piece. It can’t be isolated from the rest of my life. That’s to say that decisions that I’ve made and actions that I’ve taken all came together to put me exactly where I am right now at this very moment. While there have certainly been rough patches in the past; and I often think that if I would have known then what I know now that I would have done things differently, well, I think I’ve abandoned that line of thinking too. All of those events that I may have resented before have contributed to my current state and I am unwilling to give this up, regardless of what any alternate past may have produced.

Right about now, you’re wondering, “what the hell, Will, what are these possibilities you speak of and why all the introspection?” Well, wow, where to start? As you likely know, I’ve been doing contract work in Antarctica for the past six years or so. I’ve done some amazing things, including spending a winter at The South Pole, a winter at Palmer Station and several seasons at McMurdo Station as well as visiting quite a selection of field camps and research sites on the continent of Antarctica. I can remember, very clearly, how completely overjoyed I was when I the possibility of working in Antarctica was first presented to me. Something that I hadn’t ever even considered before, something that was far beyond my wildest dreams ended up becoming a reality and is now a huge part of who I am. I remember last winter at Palmer Station when, for just a moment, my mind was able to really grasp how utterly privileged I was to be doing what I was doing and getting paid for it. Sailing INSIDE a volcanic caldera who gets to do that at their job? I never thought I would, that’s for sure.

Now, if the job itself isn’t special enough, what about the time off and travel? During my long periods of time off I have been privileged to surf in Mexico, ski in Canada, Wyoming, Colorado, France, Norway and even Kashmir. I’ve seen what is surely one of the most macabre churches in the world, traveled all over central Europe by rail, visited the lochs of Scotland, gazed upon Big Ben, communed with nature at Machu Picchu, been amazed at the passion exhibited by Tango dancers in Buenos Aires, stood in awe at the power of nature at Iguazu Falls, been fascinated by the remnants of an ancient society at Easter Island, surfed in Ecuador and found a home (of sorts) in Hawaii.

I was all set to try and get myself hired to go on an overland traverse on Antarctica for this upcoming season. Yes, 80 days of staring through a windshield at barren, flat white, eating T.V. dinners and pooping in a bucket sounded very appealing to me, like a grand adventure even. But alas, the universe has thrown something even more exciting in my direction. So, it looks like I’m taking at least a one-year hiatus from The Ice.

What’s Next Then?

Well, I pursued and have been offered a position in Taiwan. I’m not entirely comfortable posting much detail here, but the position is at least related to the same type of work I’ve been doing and is almost exactly what I was doing in Korea (if you knew me in those days think BIG TRUCK!!).

So, there you have it. Brand new adventure coming up and I expect to post more details about my upcoming move as they become available to me. For now, if you’re interested in the exact location you can see it on a map here: Kaohsiung (pronounced “COW-shung”). If you haven’t already, might I suggest you subscribe via RSS or you can even get email updates. Both of these services are free, don’t include any advertising and are a great way to keep up to date with what I have posted.

P.S.
I am SO looking forward to taking a surfboard with me to my next job!

Not too long ago I wrote a little piece about the wonders of working in Antarctica. Every bit of it was from the heart and there are times which I feel extremely privileged and lucky to be here. Those times, however, are only the most minuscule part of the overall Antarctic experience. The following account is much more consistent with day-to-day life on the harshest of continents.

Imagine this: You wake up a few minutes late, but no big deal, there should be plenty of time to get to breakfast and get to work on time. It’s winter at a small station so there’s only one cook – so that means that everyone is on their own for breakfast, which for most of us means cold cereal or microwaved leftovers. The onus of making coffee falls upon the coffee drinkers as there are no DAs (Dining Attendants) at Palmer Station. So, there you are, a bit groggy and off-kilter, desperate for your first hit of caffeine to get your day started, but you find that relief is but a mirage as pumping the coffee dispenser only yields a blast of air with a mere misting of coffee. Again, not that big of a deal, it’s pretty easy to make more which begs the question of why the person who ran the pot out of coffee didn’t bother to make more. So, you start a new pot of coffee and figure that while you’re waiting you can get a bowl of cereal together, except, your hopes are once again dashed as you discover there are no bowls where they’re supposed to be. You go grab one of the full racks of dishes from the sanitizer and put them all away, at once doing a service for the community and solving your own bowl dilemma. You pour a bowl of cereal, but it’s the last of the cereal. Rather than be lame like the guy who ran the coffee pot out, you take it upon yourself to get new cereal and refill the container. Of course, to do this you are obligated to properly account for the cereal so there’s a small bit of paperwork to do to issue the cereal out. While you’re engaged in cereal inventory management, you notice that there must be someone around with a little bit of gumption, as they’ve taken the fresh pot of coffee and put it out for service. You also notice that next to the case of cereal, there is an empty box (from which the last of the winter supply of Fritos has been removed – yeah, this is a whole other tangent that one could go completely mad over). Unable to simply let this one slide, you break down the empty box and put it on the cardboard stack. With the bowl debacle solved, the cardboard dealt with, the cereal poured into the bowl, the new cereal issued out and accounted for; the next step is to pour milk on your cereal. Things are starting to get downright frustrating now as you discover the sole carton of milk in the milk cooler is empty. WHO THE HELL PUT THIS THING AWAY EMPTY!!! O.k., off to the walk-in cooler to fetch some more milk. Milk fetched, accounted for, milk poured in bowl of cereal, dishes put away, cereal re-stocked and accounted for and new coffee made and coffee pot in service – ARRGGGHH what’s this – smoke is billowing out of the toaster as someone must have put a too-large piece of bread or something through it and walked away. The smoke is dangerously close to being dense enough to set off the smoke detector which will trigger an entire series of undesirable events. Being the good-Samaritan with a sense of self-preservation, you rush to the toaster to deal with it. Finally, you can settle down with your bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, except you still haven’t poured a cup of coffee for yourself and you won’t be either, because as you’ve been busy putting away dishes and doing inventory management and responding to toaster emergencies, someone else has been busy drinking all the coffee. The coffee pot is once again EMPTY!!!! YOU BASTARDS!!!

The now soggy cereal in your bowl only adds fuel to your recent homicidal thoughts as you watch, like a hawk, as the new pot of coffee brews. When your official start-work-time comes before the coffee is done, you realize that your entire day is probably going to be an extension of this morning’s events.

*Last year, at The South Pole, the 59 wankers that I spent the winter with devoured an entire meal of coconut shrimp (one of my favorite dishes) prior to my arrival at dinner. I yelled expletives at them – they deserved it. Those same 59 wankers still chide me about it at every opportunity. I sure do miss those guys!

It’s four A.M., you’re in the midst of a bleary-eyed hoard of people dressed in super-thick red parkas and comically bulbous white boots. You’re being herded, like cattle, onto a giant military aircraft. In five hours your flight will be landing on a sheet of ice. The cargo door will open and you’ll be aware of the frigid temperatures, but that’s not what consumes your attention. The vastness, the Seussian landscape, the overbearing brightness of the sun are the things that try to wrestle your senses into submission, but your senses have no frame of reference from which to draw on so your experience becomes nearly incomprehensible.

Imagine this:

You’re in a helicopter, flying over what appears to be a topographical model of Mars. The ground below you hasn’t seen rain in millions of years. The aircraft lands; supplies and people are shuffled, the aircraft takes off again, repeating this ritual a few times before landing at a remote fuel station. While the helicopter is being refueled, you’re treated to fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies. You board the helicopter and depart for “home” – but you don’t go directly home. See, it’s early February and the sea ice is in full retreat. The helicopter hovers just over the very edge of the ice – where it meets open ocean. The point where ice meets water is teeming with wildlife; seals, penguins and orcas all feeding on krill. You don’t know it now, but in a few years, you’ll get to experience what krill tastes like when it’s served at a celebratory mid-winter meal. Through the headphones built into your flight helmet, the pilot’s muffled voice says something, but you’re too immersed in the experience to hear it or really even care what is being said.

Imagine this:

You board a ship at the southern tip of Chile. For the next 11 days you will be sailing to Antarctica. Several days into the cruise, the ship sails into the caldera of a volcano. A volcano – you’re sailing INSIDE a volcano! You’ll go ashore aboard a rubber boat. On the beach, you dig a pit that rapidly fills up with geothermally heated water. As the impromptu hot tub becomes too hot for comfort, you dig a trench to allow cold water from the ocean to mix with the hot water, creating a pool of absolute bliss. A few days later, the ship enters the Neumayer channel. The surrounding landscape is so pristine that it appears as if it were a painting. Nothing this beautiful could be real, could it?

Imagine this:

You’re road-tripping from Colorado to Utah with nine people you met only a week ago. You’ll go on a sunrise hike to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. You’ll commiserate with your new friends about the absurdity of Utah’s liquor laws. You eventually find yourself combing the desert for clues which will help you find a “lost” doll. In this unlikely desert environment you are training for search and rescue in Antarctica. You’d like to believe that you have now seen the pinnacle of absurdity, but you know better. On your way back to Colorado you stop at a roadside diner where you meet an ex-con turned artist who is so open and interesting that you will always remember him and his story has become irreversibly enmeshed with your story.

Imagine this:

Job satisfaction is attained when you are 40 miles away from town and the ambient temperature is 40 below. Your behemoth tracked vehicle breaks down, stranding you; your mind is the only resource available to get you out of this situation. The difficulty of each task is magnified by whiteout conditions, windchills exceeding 70 below and only a couple of hours of daylight. Though it takes three days, there is no describing the feeling you have when you manage to get yourself out of this mess with no external support. You now have a new yardstick with which to measure possibilities and you can’t imagine how grave a situation would have to be for you to think of it as impossible.

Imagine this:

You see seas as smooth as glass and a landscape that looks like it was colored by an eight-year-old girl*. You and your friends are going to enjoy a day of boating. You’re surrounded by icebergs that are bathed in a hue of blue that is absolutely indescribable and unimaginable. A blue so deep, pure and bright that your eyes try to refuse that you are seeing it. Penguins are porpoising beside your boat and in the water you witness the serpentine grace of a leopard seal. The sea ice has set up in places, and at times you think that all forward progress will been halted by it, but alas you get through and around the next bend you’re confronted with another vista of infinite beauty.

Imagine this:

You step outside on your way to work. The temperature is an inconceivable 80 below. Your first thought might be that you need to expedite moving between buildings – but then you see it – the sky above is lit up with colors not of this earth. The lights dance against a backdrop of stars so thick that if it were called the “creamy way” that still wouldn’t be descriptive enough. The temperature isn’t even noticeable as you’re mesmerized by the light show above. You realize that this is what the sky will look like for several more months.

Imagine that your circle of friends includes several people who have terrain features named after them or who have summited Everest (and other notable peaks) multiple times, though these people certainly aren’t boastful of their accomplishments. Imagine that one of the best meals you’ve ever eaten was prepared in a tent, 800 miles from running water. Imagine that you’re one of a handful of people who has seen the once-per-year sunrise at The South Pole.

Imagine this:
All of these things that you’ve experienced are part of your job!

These things are only a minuscule part of working in Antarctica, but over time these threads are woven into the fabric of fond memories and revered experiences.

Most of the time, working in Antarctica is drudgery, pure and simple. We have hellishly arduous conference calls, awful fluorescent lighting, a never-ending mountain of bureaucratic red tape and ineptitude, budget struggles and a vast array of nonsensical corporate rules, as well as many of the other things that people deal with in their jobs each and every day. We have all of that AND we have the problems created by extreme weather; and we have to wash dishes and scrub toilets, yet all who come, and especially those who return, do so because the experience, as a whole, surpasses imagination.

I’m often asked why I keep coming back – the short answer is usually something along the lines of “If you have to ask, you wouldn’t understand” – but when I actually stop and think about how privileged I am to get to do some of these things I realize just how badass it is to work in Antarctica.

*paraphrased quote from Neal

The rest of this was completely ripped from http://www.southpolestation.com – but I don’t reckon anyone will mind

MEDIA ALERT! Jake was interviewed last week by the folks from the TVNZ program “Closeup.” This is a “60 Minutes” style news show, and I was consulted by one of the producers. As far as I know the interview is scheduled to air Monday at 1900 (Pole/NZ time) on TV ONE. If this New Zealand channel doesn’t happen to be on your program grid, you can tune in to the web site and watch it afterward.
The end of July, here’s our hero getting ready to take his first steps!	And here he is, up to his full 6′-4″ height!
Here he is back in mid June with one of his new bionic attachments. Like a Swiss Army knife…lots of tools. After getting out of the hospital he has been staying near his California home and getting acquainted with the new toys. These 3 photos are credited to Kathy Blumm. Just a few friends of Jake…the IceCube folks in Madison As you can see from the photos at the top of the page, things are going well. To date we’ve raised about $30,000! Amazing! But help is still needed. And I’ve got TWO pages of photos of Jake that have been contributed from here and there. Start here. Here’s the deal! Join the many friends from around the world who have helped Jake and Kathy as they face this difficult time. It’s easy…just send a check payable to “The Jake Speed Fund c/o Beth Watson” to: The Jake Speed Fund c/o Beth Watson 7722 East Phillips Circle Centennial, Colorado 80112 There are a couple of other payment options, email me for details. As for the story…the headline perhaps could have read “Man Lost in Whiteout Survives 58-Hour Ordeal in Sub-Zero Temps.” It is an amazing saga. Although he managed to walk out on his own two feet, there was extensive nerve damage. Jake was transported to Nuuk, Greenland for preliminary examination. He was then flown to the UC Davis hospital burn unit in Sacremento for extensive evaluation and treatment. After multiple surguries, and attempts to partially save his original feet, he has now undergone full amputation of his right hand and both feet. He is currently undergoing an abdominal flap procedure to save full use of the left hand. Jake Speed (Joseph Gibbons) started with the U. S. Antarctic Program in 1999 as a UT (left, photo from CH; right, DH)…starting the first of five consecutive winters at Pole, from 2000 to 2004. He began seasonal work in Greenland in 2004, while still returning to Pole during austral summers as an equipment operator. He set a record for consecutive winters at the South Pole at 5. Jake is very good at his work, and has said, “When I’m on, I’m on, and when I’m off, I just want to chill on the beach and hang with my friends and family.” Jake was married in 2007 to Kathy Blumm, They’d met at Pole during the 2004 winter and have done several deployments to Greenland together. Kathy was in New York State, preparing for the trip to Greenland, when Jake was medevaced out…. Jake has done extensive traveling, and has done extensive walking on those travels. His wife Kathy stated, “His feet have taken him a long long way over the years; walking the Pacific Crest Trail, across China, Africa and wherever the hell else. The Poles. So, he has maybe gone beyond warrantable miles anyway. Time for something new. As we go into this next phase, I want to take a second here to say thanks. Thanks to all the folks that have been there for us in so many ways and on so many levels. It has been amazing. The flood of mail has been so heartwarming and the donations to the ice fund have blown us away. Thank you.”
Jake in Greenland, relaxing on top of a HUGE pile of nets on a Nansen sled after a long day of packing up camp near the end of the summer season (BJ) The photo credits and acknowledgements are on the last photo page…lots of photos start here! Other public information sources include the National Science Foundation press release, and for now, the interview Jake gave to the Christchurch Press.	Jake during the Pole airdrop on 20 December 2006 (DP), photo by Forest Banks

Mawson continued on, facing even greater adversity. He fell into a crevasse, but was saved when his sledge acted as an anchor. Mawson admitted to considering cutting the rope at that point. The soles of his feet separated from the feet themselves. He cut his sledge in half with a pen knife and dragged it approximately 160km back to camp. Upon his arrival to the base camp, he discovered that his ship had left just days earlier. There was a party of six men left behind in case survivors returned – this party was able to radio the ship, but poor weather thwarted a rescue attempt. One of the men left behind succumbed to polar madness very early on, was locked up and eventually institutionalized upon the party’s return to Australia.

Admiral Byrd’s historic (but controversial) flight over the South Pole is seen as the line of demarcation between the heroic age of exploration and modern exploration. Things have gotten easier in Antarctica, but that doesn’t mean the crazies don’t still find their way down here and the winter seems to be their time to shine. There are stories about one man violently bludgeoning another with a hammer, mutinous crews, a doctor who attempted to build a time machine and a man who was convinced that aliens would land. More minor symptoms include memory loss, quick tempers and apparently hallucinations. Popular opinion is that everyone wintering in Antarctica will go crazy to some degree.

During my first winter at The South Pole I was quick to dismiss as myth the things that I had heard people talk about. I really do believe that people embellish the symptoms of T3 (AKA winterover toast) a great deal. I did, however, have a minor experience of my own in which I completely lost a four-hour block of time. The incident did at least cause me to be a believer.

This season I may have actually “lost it” in a more classic way, perhaps the isolation and lack of stimulation are finally getting to me, but the other day when I was returning from the Marr glacier I saw what I thought was a person (which my mind quickly turned into people). I went as far as to radio this sighting in. Upon my return to station quite a few folks were out with binoculars trying to see what I thought I saw. By this point I was quite a bit less sure about what I had seen, but to satisfy my own curiosity I went back out with another person and a pair of binoculars only to discover what I had seen were rocks that looked like a person and a bird fluttering which added movement to the scene. I expected to catch quite a bit of razzing, but it was fairly mild actually. Perhaps nobody wants to try to push the guy who’s seeing things too far or perhaps it’s because I turned the thing around pretty quickly by calling them all suckers.

At any rate, it might be time for me to take some time off. More to follow.

First, our local big-time celebrity (he made an appearance on Oprah!) and self-proclaimed action-nerd – see what Payot is up to

See Antarctica through fresh eyes – Jeff writes about his first deployment to Antarctica

Easily my favorite person on the entire continent – Marsha made it down for the second half of the Palmer winter.

See Palmer through Sean’s lens

Ice veteran Craig spent the first half of the Palmer winter with us. Read his take on it and other commentary on Antarctica and other places at Travelin’ with the Rev (He got a priest’s license from an ad in the back of Rolling Stone or something…)

Genevieve at The South Pole

Ken at McMurdo

Krissie spends the winter at The South Pole

Without a doubt, at any remote location, and even more so during an Antarctic winter, food is the driving force behind morale. The kitchen staff at any Antarctic research station have one of the toughest jobs – take an intimate look at how one of them keeps it all together at Harriett’s Tomato.

Lee is at McMurdo for the winter

So, here’s a guy who actually does keep up with his blog and has a gift for writing. I’ve been following it since he got to the ice, followed along as he made the decision to extend his summer job into a winter over contract…. check it out at Drowning in Miscellany

A couple of other Antarctic related sites:
The (un)official Palmer Station site
The (un)official South Pole Station site
Sixty South
Antarctic Memories Discussion Forum

If I’ve missed yours and you would like a link here, simply let me know (use the contact link near the top if you haven’t already got my email address)

One of the privileges of spending a winter at The South Pole is that you get to be involved in the design of the following year’s geographical pole marker. It is tradition for the winter crew to sign the marker every year – it’s a pretty unique thing to have one’s name on any geographical marker, let alone one at the extreme end of the earth. I feel privileged to have my name on the 2009 South Pole marker.

No matter where I go, especially when I find myself amongst other travelers, The question always comes up; “Where are you from?”. Limitations of the English language make this question pretty tough to answer – whereas if I were a speaker of say…Spanish I would have two separate forms of “I am” to choose from. If I were able to imply simply by my choice of verbs that the “where” that I say I am from is temporary, answering this seemingly easy question would be simpler than it is in English. Usually when someone asks me where I am from, the result is some sort of an oration or summary life story that ends with me explaining that I call Jackson, WY home but don’t actually live anywhere. If I’m in a hurry or simply don’t want to deliver a long address, I will answer simply “earth”.

Putting a Stick Pin in a map Doesn’t Make it “Home”

Jackson Hole, WY is one of the most wonderful places on the face of the earth. It is scenically gorgeous, a mecca for outdoor recreation, has a great deal to offer in the way of arts and culture, especially considering its small size and also happens to be where my children live. These are all good reasons to identify with this particular geographical location, but none of those reasons make this place feel like home.

If it “Feels” Like Home, is it Really Home?

This year the first place I went when I left Antarctica was Hawaii. Towards the end of my stay, after I had had time to really count my blessings, I was experiencing an overwhelming feeling of elation with the course my life had taken and with where I was geographically. That feeling was so strong that I was actually concerned that I might be a little bit manic. While I was in Hawaii I learned to surf, I discovered the magic of snorkeling and I began a SCUBA certification course. I also met up with a few of the folks whom I spent the winter with at The South Pole and I made a very positive emotional connection with a place and the people who were there. Upon leaving Hawaii, I experienced an emotional response that can only be described as “leaving home”.

Part 2 coming soon…